Blank Slate
by native chicklet
Summary: When she wrapped her arms around him, he had seen an unexpected flash of distaste in Luke's eyes, but it was gone before anyone else noticed. ...A collection of ideas for stories or poems I might make...


I didn't want to come back.

That is the truth I keep hidden everyday.

Everytime I laugh,  
I cry behind the mask.

Everytime I smile,  
a part of me withers away.

I think they've begun to realize what's happening..  
I'm falling apart all over again.  
I'm losing control.

I'm **hurting **them.

God I'm selfish.

**--**

He curled himself into as tight a ball as he could manage, trying to squeeze the pain from his tired body. He barely felt the sting of the cold air as he started unlocking doors within himself, nothing could distract him now, nothing could make him forget.

He would never forget.

Tears poured down his face, and he could care less. The walls were down, no one was around, so now he could let the guilt, the pain, the regret... oh the regret. He couldn't help but feel a pang of self-loathe appear, as he reflected on the past few years.

He had returned to his friends, just as he had promised. They were so happy to see him, and flung themselves on him, crying out in joy. He didn't realize the reason behind the sudden pain he felt at that moment. He smiled back, and embraced them each. Tear clung to him, and he held her just as eagerly. This was what he wanted, what his friends wanted for him, what was supposed to be...

He didn't understand the pain he felt.

He lived, just as he had promised. He fought alongside his companions; working to prepare this new Score-less world they had made. The trials weren't as hard anymore, nothing could seem as hard as what he had had to face during, and leading up to, the final battle with Van. Whenever his mind would wander down that dangerous path, he would remember the deathly gray Asch, as he held him limp in his arms. He couldn't stand it. He should never have left him, he should have stayed and fought alongside him, regardless of how angry he would be with him. He'd rather have his orginal yell and scream at him, than have to see his lifeless face everytime he closed his eyes, hear his accusing voice everytime he was alone.

--

Blood doesn't make a difference.

That's what she told herself everyday, as she went to see her... father. It didn't matter that they didn't share the same blood, that wasn't what counted. Luke..He had said it was the memories they shared that made a difference, that really mattered. She had listened to him then, she had trusted him; he had been her childhood friend after all.

But now, she always seemed to be questioning herself... and questioning him. She hated that. She hated herself for losing faith in her dear friend, her ally in battle, her hero, her...her Luke. But it wasn't so hard anymore. Ever since he had died...she hadn't known who, or what to trust. And then when he came back, he had been so full of smiles, of happiness. But, there was something hiding behind all those grins, something... sadness? Yes, that must be it. He has alot of blood on his hands, she could understand why he would be sad. That was the most probable answer, and so she accepted that for the truth; deciding to try and continue believing in him.

--

" Please? I promise-..." Luke flinched at the word, his expression darkened as his gaze fell to the floor. He clenched his fists at his side, his knuckles whitening. "..Don't. Don't say that. " Guy stiffened, and his previous teasing was forgotten, when he reached out for Luke. His hands touched his shoulders gently, and he ingnored Luke's attempts at pushing him away, pulling him close. His arms circled around his shaking friend. "Luke... I'm sorry. " He fought for another moment, then caved, resting his tired form on Guy's shoulder. He seemed so weary, he couldn't find his old energy back; he was like an old man worn with age.

And everyone worried. They would never tell him, but they were afraid for his life. Had the burden of Akzeriuth, the replica sacrifices, the betrayals, the countless deaths to people around him, had they finally begun pushing him over the edge? Guy had wondered about that also, but he knew the truth.

Yes, those events would forever haunt Luke, but that wasn't what was pulling him down back into the darkness, no, it was something... much more difficult than that. He didn't realize it until it was too late, Guy assumed, but Luke had fallen for his fiery doppleganger. His original, Asch. After their final battle with Van, when Luke had returned, the following months were unbelievably happy. The entire group had refused to be seperated from him, fearing he would vanish if they left him for more than a day at a time. But soon enough, their duties called for them; they had things to take care of, lives to continue living.

Tear had been the most excited person (besides himself of course, no one could out-do him in that area, especially concerning the young duke.), the first to jump him when he returned. Guy had been slightly jealous but he assumed that that was what Luke wanted, so he let it be. But when she wrapped her arms around him, he had seen an unexpected flash of distaste in Luke's eyes, but it was gone before anyone else noticed. Or mostly everyone. You can never tell with Jade. That had been the first sign, and he noticed little subtle things here and there as the weeks sped by. But he wasn't going to think of those; as happy as those months had seemed, Luke was suffering. Somewhere deep below the surface of his proud innocence, something dark had begun to grow.

--Author's Note-

These are a couple of beginning's, or ideas, for stories or poems. I wrote them whenever I had inspiration, but I don't know which is worth working on, and making into an actual story.  
So I'd like the people who read this/these, to possibly mention which they prefer; which they might like to see finished.

Please, please, if it isn't too much trouble, help me out.  
Thanks a thousand,

Native chicklet


End file.
